Wait and See
by TheYummyPencil
Summary: Joanne is going to find out if Maureen is really cheating. Mark is going to help her. Resistance is futile! Three-shot with hints of Mark/Joanne...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: While listening to 'We're Okay' ten times too many, it occurred to me that Joanne is really insecure about Maureen, at least in the beginning of the show. And I reckoned it would be cool to see her connect more with Mark over that, a la 'The Tango: Maureen'.**

**So yeah. This is my only RENT fic so far that I actually like. Please do tell if you like it, too!**

**Oh, and it's set post-RENT, written in Marky's POV…**

**Disclaimer: Thank you, Jonathan Larson. **

"I think she's cheating."

"Who's cheating?"

"_Maureen's_ cheating!"

"Really? _Fuck_…"

"Note the use of _think_, that is to say I do not _know_. I need your help…"

Joanne strides over the threshold, her corkscrew curls trembling, her wide eyes gleaming, her gloved hands balling into little fists. Mark cannot help but think that she bears a passing resemblance to a rabid poodle. He pinches the back of his hand discreetly to keep from smiling…

"What makes you think she's cheating?" he asks when her tongue seems to be tied in fury.

"What made _you_ think she was cheating?"

Mark is not particularly keen on sorting through all his discarded memories, but it seems dangerous to deny her anything at the moment.

"Well…she'd lurk by the phone, like she was waiting for somebody's call...then she'd leave the loft for hours, without an explanation…sometimes she'd come home smelling like aftershave. Not mine. I could never afford..." He remembers that this is not about him anymore and clears his throat. "Sound familiar?"

Her shimmering gaze suggests that it does. Mark feels mean all of a sudden.

"But um…that was a long time ago. You can't be sure…" he drifts off, blue eyes roaming their cluttered apartment. _His_ cluttered apartment, since Roger moved back in with that pretty young thing they called Mimi…

"Well, I can't _not_ be sure." Joanne asserts, swiping away tears with the sleeve of her coat. "I have to be. So as of now you are my P.I, and you're working pro bono because only yuppie scum do this kind of thing for money."

She gives him that look he used to get from Ruby Flint before being shoved into a broom closet for refusing to do her homework. History will _not_ be repeating itself today.

**Author's Note: So yeah. I'm hoping to keep this short and sweet. And it's sort of an experiment as far as writing style goes. I know the RENT archives can be kind of sleepy, but if there's anybody out there right now, please be so kind as to review : -) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Yay, I is back! Thank you to my one reviewer, I don't feel so pointless with you around :- )**

"Do you realize how crazy this is?"

"Yes. _And I don't care_. Don't look at me like that! Consider it a documentary."

"Right. _When Good Lesbians Go Bad_…"

"Sounds like something you'd do for Buzzline."

"You just made me feel ten times worse…"

Apparently, Maureen has been on the phone with a mystery caller. Said caller is a mystery because Maureen prefers to keep it that way, often taking the phone into the next room and speaking in hushed tones. This behavior has been slowly but surely driving Joanne insane. Star 69 is of no help, because whoever's on the other line disconnects as soon as they hear her voice.

Now she's enlisted Mark to trail Maureen for the day, recording her exploits on film.

"Why me?"

"Because _I_ am hopeless with technology, as you may recall."

Mark _does_ recall and he's only aware of the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when she mirrors it.

"_Besides_," she continues, setting her face into a sober expression, "you have that zippy little bike, much less conspicuous than my car. _I_ will head to the Mint Leaf after work. It's this swanky restaurant Maureen was at," she adds for clarification.

"And how do you know this?"

"I found a mint in her coat pocket."

"You searched her pockets?"

"_Crazy, I know_," she drawls. "Love is crazy shit."

Mark maintains silence for a moment before lowering his judgmentally raised eyebrow. He too was crazy for Maureen at one point. He would have done anything for her, including laundry. And he hardly ever does his own laundry. It is a tad poignant to see somebody else suffer the same and he resolves to do his best to help.

Joanne picks his scarf up from a moldy sofa and hands it to him. "But seriously, Mark. _Thank you_. For caring."

Her fingertips graze his as he takes it and he wonders if she notices. He wonders why _he_ notices and why said fingertips continue to tingle faintly after the contact. Then he figures he should stop with the wondering and just go already.

An hour later, Mark and his camera and his zippy little bike, set off to stalk Maureen. They begin at the corner shop, where she stops every afternoon for her cheap candy fix. Soon after she journeys to the pharmacy for what he assumes are painkillers and then, ironically, to his apartment (or maybe Roger's) where she stays for at least an hour…

It's at this point that he starts to feel like an asshole and he wonders if he should just pack it in and go home. But then Joanne needs to know the truth, whether it's good or bad. And Mark, oddly enough, needs to know as well.

As he continues his pursuit the scene around him begins to change. The streets are swept and the three-piece-suits walk without fear. The parks are teeming with pristine kids and their attentive nannies. Mark grimaces. They are descending into the bowels of the Upper East Side. This could be bad…

Finally, they arrive at a swanky apartment block and for the first time, Maureen looks around. She presses the buzzer, grins into the intercom and five minutes later a woman appears. Her look is shamelessly corporate and Mark's heart plummets to the vicinity of his stomach. He heaves out his camera and begins to film what looks like a very friendly exchange. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, a finger coiling into vivid red hair.

They stroll to the prettiest car Mark has ever seen. He packs his camera, situates his feet on the pedals and sets off after them hastily.

It is this haste that causes him to rush across the road, mindless of the car roaring up behind him. A beeping of the horn and Mark swerves with a yelp. Before he knows what's happening he's back on the street, the palms of his hands scraped, bike strewn on the ground next to him. After a moment of shocked numbness his brain kicks into gear and he scrambles into a sitting position to check his beloved camera…

"Hey, why don't you watch where you're going', huh?" the driver demands as he creeps past, "You could've died just then!"

Mark ignores this and stumbles to his feet, just in time to catch Maureen and the mysterious yuppie disappearing around a corner. He would very much like to die at this moment. Because now Joanne is going to kill him…

**Author's Note: Final part of the trilogy coming up **_**a lot**_** sooner. Hope you enjoyed. Review if you did! Reviews are yummy…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Last chappie, yay! Thanks for bothering with this fic. Hope it was worth your time, hehe… **

"Did you come up with anything?"

"_Did you?" _

"I asked first!"

Joanne seems more than a little frazzled as she storms into the apartment. Mark feels a familiar, albeit totally inappropriate, urge to smile. He is becoming quite accustomed to these visits. He kind of likes the company. And he'll miss it when this whole mess is done with.

"Well…you might want to sit down."

She presses her lips shut, nods and makes for the sofa. Mark trails behind her a few steps, before branching off to the projector. The film is in place, with only one scene having made the final cut. He glances at her and then does a double take.

The moment of vulnerability is so striking it seems criminal not to capture it. She's leaning forward, about an inch away from falling off the couch; hands clasped at her mouth, round eyes barely visible beneath the trembling fringe of curls…

Alas, Joanne would have a hard time appreciating the fact that he wants to film her, not for a specific project or anything. Just because.

"Mark? _Mark_. Earth to Mark! Can we get this show on the road?" He blinks and turns to the projector quickly, hoping she doesn't notice the blush stinging his cheeks. So lame.

"_First shot Maureen_," he murmurs as it shudders to life. "Meeting a mysterious red-head from the Upper East Side." They watch in silence as the two hug and chatter and disappear into the swanky car. The shot flickers and fades. Silence lingers for a moment before:

"That's it?"

"That's…it."

"Why didn't you follow them?"

"I…_fell_." He clears his throat and looks away. "But this could be nothing! What did you find out from the Mint Leaf?"

Her fiery countenance eases as she sighs, "According to the maître d', Maureen was there with a _stately red-head_ last Saturday night." She shakes her head. "She told me she was seeing _Collins_ last Saturday…"

Mark grimaces. Not even his premeditated optimism can find the bright side of this. Joanne stands, as if trying to shake something off, and begins to pace.

"None of this is conclusive," she murmurs, maybe more to herself. "We need concrete proof. We need to catch her in the act." She shudders to a stop and points at him. "What kind of doughnuts do you like?"

"_What?_"

"We're going on a stakeout. What kind do you like?"

He shakes his head. "Jo…what do you do if she really is cheating?"

"I break up with her." She says, as if it's that simple. They both know it will take more than a little infidelity to cut loose from Maureen…

An hour later they are lurking in the shadows, waiting for any suspicious movements. Joanne left the apartment under the guise of visiting her parents. Anticipation crackles through the air in her car. If Maureen does appear, something is undeniably up.

"_Not that I mind or anything_," Mark utters eventually, tearing off a chunk of his chocolate-smothered doughnut. Joanne's éclair sits untouched on the dashboard. He might ask to take it home for Mimi and Roger. They need to eat and he needs an excuse to see them, besides the obvious loneliness. "But why am I here again?"

"Because you deserve to know as much as I do," she mutters. "This is for me and you and everybody else she's _ever_ screwed over." The pitch of her voice rises a little towards the end. "_In addition_," she breathes, "you're gonna have to be my backbone when Maureen tries to cry her way out of it."

"I'm not much of a backbone," he admits and she laughs a little. "_Seriously_. You want strength of character- go to Roger or Mimi. Even better, Collins."

"Roger and Mimi are too busy making out to care," Joanne dismisses. "Which is only fair, of course. Collins would just tell me to chill out and force Stoli on me." She heaves a sigh. "I'm afraid you're all I've got, Mark. How fucked up is that?" He emits a chuckle, which grows into a guffaw, which explodes into outright laughter. She joins in and soon they're steaming up the windows with hilarity the jibe does not deserve.

It's a relief though and Mark decides to ask now, while she's still smiling. "Jo, why are you with someone you can't trust?"

"This is about love, not _trust_. Don't raise your eyebrow at me! You _know_ how this feels."

"Yeah, I do," he says, directing his gaze from the street to her. "So take it from somebody who _knows_. You're better than this."

Her smile dies. "_No_. Maybe you are, but I'm not." She looks him dead in the eyes now and the intensity makes him fidget. "We dated the same girl, Mark, but we're different people. Do you realize how insecure you make me feel?" He scoffs. "_It's true! _You and Maureen, you had this _thing_. This indelible connection. You lived and starved and fought together. And I'm just kind of square, you know? _A lovable, droll geek…_"

Mark tries to say something helpful as she trails off, but he is so swept up in mixed emotions that nothing occurs. He feels oddly flattered and slightly sympathetic and generally confused. Maybe he should tell her that she's just as good as him, better in fact. And that Maureen is lucky to have her because she's more than the lovable, droll geek. And she deserves someone who won't take that for granted…

But before he can put this forward coherently a sleek sports car (somehow more offensive than a taxicab) pulls up in front of the apartment block. Maureen emerges soon after and climbs in. The bait has been taken.

Mark stuffs the last of the doughnut into his mouth as Joanne grips the steering wheel and shoves the key in the ignition. The car pulls away and with a rev of the engine they're off after her.

"I can't believe her," Joanne mutters fiercely. "I _cannot_ believe her. She's going to meet that bitch, isn't she?" Before he can open his mouth she ploughs on. "She's going to meet her while _I'm_ with my parents. My parents!" Mark wants to point out that she is _not_ with her parents, but that would only get him thrown out of the car…

And so he finds himself back in the Upper East Side, which looks just as shiny at night as it does in the day. They pass Stately Red-Headed Yuppie's condo this time and end up at some eatery named Mustard. Sure enough, the culprits clamber out and into the restaurant. Mark glances at Joanne, who is staring straight ahead, her fingers seemingly super-glued to the steering wheel.

"So…are we going in or…?"

"_Just gimme a minute_."

"_Okay_." And so they wait. And wait and wait and wait and wait and…

"Jo-"

"Okay, let's go."

Mark doesn't have time to notice how out of place he looks with his ratty jacket and fuzzy scarf, as he and Joanne weave around the tables, desperately seeking-

"MAUREEN!"

They look up from their menu cards. The stunning brunette blinks and says: "_Pookie?_ What're you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Joanne demands, skidding to a halt. "Or should I say _who_ are you doing here?"

"_Huh?_"

"You've been calling this- this _person_ over the past week, haven't you?"

Stately Red-headed Yuppie extends a hand. "_Eden Krane_. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Joanne regards her as if she's just dipped said hand in a septic tank. "_And meeting her in secret._ Well, the secret is _out_. I want the truth. I deserve it. _We_ deserve it." And she steps aside, leaving Mark in full view of Maureen. She shakes her head and he realizes that they are about to feel exceptionally stupid.

"Oh my freaking God!" she exclaims, drawing the attention of many diners. "You _honestly_ think that's what's going on? Marky, how could you go along with this? You've always been so trusting." Right. And look how well that worked out for him. "And _you_." She rises to match Joanne's gaze, arms akimbo. "After all we've been through…you should be ashamed of yourself. I can't even believe I just said that!"

"Well, you have to admit," Joanne mumbles, obviously suffering the same revelation as Mark. "This looks suspicious. Why are you so secretive about her?"

"Because I have a secret! _Had_ a secret." She sighs. "Before you two burn me at the stake, this is Eden. Eden is a talent scout. A very _straight_ talent scout, who I contacted to help me…maybe, possibly…_be a TV star_. She's been trying to get me into auditions and stuff. This dinner is a perfectly innocent affair between employee and employer."

"Honeybear, why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

"Because you would all just think it's stupid! Roger makes fun of my performance art enough as it is. And I thought that if it didn't work out, and you didn't know about it in the first place, it wouldn't be so bad."

Joanne seems to deflate and then swell up again with relief. Mark knows he should feel the same. Maureen's Buzzline adventure gave her a taste for the big time. That's all this was. The crisis has been averted. The day saved.

But as they embrace and coo their apologies, attracting even more scrutiny, Mark feels isolated, agitated, maybe even jealous (though he has know idea of whom he should be jealous). Anything but happy.

He looks away and his gaze falls on Eden. He can't help but notice that she is attractive. Well, he _can_ help but notice. He just doesn't want to. She's obviously smart. And confident, without being smug and Bennyish. She catches him staring and affords him a smile. Mark waves awkwardly. She waves back and his shrewd filmmaker's eye catches the ring sparkling on her left hand.

Shit.

**A/N: Yes, that is it. Once again, thank you to all who have read! Please feel free to leave your comments and complaints in a review :- )**


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